50 Shades of Dramione
by 3cheersforidiots
Summary: In which you'll (eventually) find 50 one-shots of (almost) everybody's favorite pairing. Some of them will be romantic, some of them will be friendly, some of them will be just cute, and some of them will be angsty (probably a lot of them, knowing myself). Current: Coward's Way Out - Letter!Fic. About goodbyes. Rated T for now.
1. Swing and Back

**Disclaimer (because I always forget it): If I owned the HP Universe, Draco and Hermione would already be married happily with two children. See, I don't own it.**

 **Hopscotch** : bang (Word), purple (Word), "I like that flavour." (Dialogue), two (word)

 **Level-Up Competition** : Tutorial/Stage 2/Task 1 – Write about your OTP meeting as children. (Developer trait used)

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** : Care of Magical Creatures Assignment #3 – Write about a first impression that is not the last impression.

 **February Event** : (colour) Lavender + (colour) Coral

 **The If You Dare Challenge** : 248 (grown-up)

 _ **Gringotts:**_

 **Colour Prompts** : black, lavender, coral, white

 **Words Instead of Said** : chatted, acknowledged

 **Verbs** : dress up, fidget, maintain, decide, got, ruin, disappear, disappoint, could, contemplate, acknowledge, supposed, believe

 **Adjectives:** done, black, white, nice, neat, best, worst, wrong, worthy, weird, angry, glad, pretty, cruel, last, sensible, yummy

 **Nouns:** swing, grownup, children, ice cream, thought, colour, flavour, park

* * *

"Can I sit here?" asked 7-year-old Hermione Granger. She was pointing at one of the two empty swings beside one that was already occupied by a boy, who was looking to be about her age. The boy on the other swing was wearing a jet black waistcoat over a white button-up shirt, and his blond hair was neatly done, so neatly that even the wind couldn't mess it up.

Hermione thought he must have been dressed up for a special event. After all, people didn't usually look this nice and neat.

"I dunno," the boy shrugged. "My Mother told me not to associate with muggles, but she's not there, so I guess you can."

The girl eyed him for a bit with furrowed eyebrows, like she couldn't quite comprehend what he had meant, but after a while, she just rolled her eyes and took a seat on the swing.

"Did you say muggles?" she inquired after a few moments of silence. She hadn't heard the term before.

"Yeah, muggles," they boy answered. "You know, people who can't do magic, not like we, wizards and witches do."

Hermione gazed at the boy with rising suspicion. She didn't believe in magic and such. It was just one of the tricks of grownups, to make children believe everything they saw. Magic wasn't real, but, she supposed, it seemed like not everyone knew about that. And so, she decided to enlighten the boy as well, though, she wouldn't outright say her thoughts on the matter. She wasn't that cruel.

"And can you do magic?" she asked, trying to maintain an interested tone.

"Occasionally," the blond nodded. "Though I can't control it yet. Father said I'll learn how to do that in Hogwarts, when I'll be 11. He also said that I'll better be in Slytherin."

"Hogwarts?" the girl furrowed her eyebrows again. "Is that some kind of school?"

"Yeah, it's the coolest magical school in Britain! Haven't your parents told you about it?" the boy chatted.

"No…" Hermione replied. "And, uh, what is Slytherin?"

"It's one of the Houses in Hogwarts! And my Father told me it was also the best house, and that only the worthy people get in there," the boy explained. "The other houses are Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. My Mother said that there might be some nice blokes in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, though she also said that Hufflepuffs weren't too good in anything, but she thinks that Gryffindor is the worst house possible. I guess I wouldn't want to be a Gryffindor."

Hermione wasn't quite sure what to make of the things the boy said. It all seemed sensible, but then how come she'd never heard of it? Even for the grownups, making up a whole magical world and such wouldn't be worth their time.

"So, can you do magic?" the boy turned to face her with raised eyebrows. Hermione casted her eyes down and fidgeted with one of the ribbons on her coral-coloured dress before answering.

"I… I don't know," Hermione concluded. "I mean; sometimes weird things do happen to me. For example, once I wanted to get ice cream while shopping with Mommy and she said I couldn't because it would ruin my teeth, and I got really angry and suddenly, the mulberry ice cream got spilled all over the place. Everything was purple and all. It was really funny," she told him, then contemplated for a moment before continuing. "Mulberry ice cream looks a lot like lavenders, they have their colour. And it's also yummy. I like that flavour."

"That sounds a lot like magic for me," the boy nodded. "Well, I guess we'll meet again at Hogwarts, that's for sure."

Suddenly, what sounded like a bang came from behind the two children, and a woman – who's hair colour resembled the boy's rather suspiciously – approached the swing swiftly.

"Oops, I have to go now," the boy abruptly stood up and hurried away, but not before glancing back at Hermione one more time. "By the way, the name's Draco. Draco Malfoy."

Minutes after the boy disappeared with his mother, Hermione was still sitting in the swing. She had to admit, this meeting was rather surreal – even for her –, though she was the glad the boy didn't reject her completely. She was glad she could talk to somebody, since her classmates never seemed to like her that much.

She didn't know if magic was real or not, but, she thought, maybe it wouldn't be that bad if it was. Maybe then, she could meet the boy again.

 _12 years later_

"That git deserves to be sent into Azkaban," Hermione huffed to Harry, while the two of them were walking towards the courtroom in the Department of Mysteries. "Look, I understand that he saved us when we got captured _once_ , but that doesn't make up for everything else he's done."

"You know that even if I wanted, I couldn't get him a life-long sentence. He never killed anybody," Harry answered with a sigh. "A few years is the maximum."

"I know," the girl acknowledged. "I just want to see him admit he was wrong."

"Me too," Harry agreed. "Say, why are you so caught up with his case in particular? I mean; okay, he was our classmate, but he's not a major offender."

Just then, a few memories flashed in Hermione's mind. A girl in a pretty coral dress approaching the swings in the park, then her sitting next to the blond-haired boy, and finally, him waving goodbye to her in a hurry.

"Well," she said finally. "I think it's because he disappointed me a lot of times," she concluded, then, when she was sure no one would hear her last words, she added. "I guess first impressions aren't worth nothing."


	2. I'm Here to Finish, Darling

**A/N: Sooo… I'm actually totally in love with the idea of this AU. Honestly though, I was actually thinking of continuing this, but I have no idea how, so it might just stay this way (and thus why I uploaded this in the Dramione collection). There are bits and pieces of inspiration in here, the knife is a reimagined CS:GO skin, and the idea of the card is from Phoenix Wright. Anyway. Enjoy.**

* * *

In the shadows, somebody was always lurking. In the shadows, a man followed another around. In the shadows, this man always reached his target before said target could reach him. In the shadows, this man always held a crimson-coloured blade in his palm.

Now, this blade, a custom made flip knife was lying in his hand as well, while the man himself leaned against a cold wall on the abandoned street.

He had always thought that this blade was quite exquisite. Its colour was much like the blood that spilled from his victims' throats after he had slit them. It always made him strive for more. It was a sick addiction, even he had to admit that, but it was rather beneficial when it came to serving his clients.

Who would hire an assassin, who didn't want to kill, anyway?

But it wasn't like he had much of a choice when it came to career choices. This job was a family business, which had been going on for decades, even centuries, and he wasn't going to be the one to break the tradition. If he had, he would have had to face his father's wrath, which he wasn't going to, since even though time had its own effect on good ol' Lucius, he was still a retired serial killer of sorts with rusty, but reliable instincts.

And thus, like father, like son, it was Draco, who was now carrying the family name on his back.

He locked his cold, grey gaze on the handle of the knife. It was made out of pure silver, and he suspected that just the handle itself was worth more than his other belongings altogether. There was a little snake carved on it, which seemed so realistic that one would even think the animal was going to slither away if one looked away for a second. The knife, with its polished blade and silvery handle shined in the dim light almost blindingly.

But that wasn't what caught the man's attention, as he had examined this heirloom a couple hundred times since he had gotten it from his father, when he had turned sixteen.

No, it was more like the woman, who was standing at the entrance of the alley, seemingly deep in conversation with another man.

 _Here she is_ , Draco thought. _And now we wait._

If he was going to be honest with himself, he had a bit of a distaste concerning this case. Not because he wouldn't be able to capture the woman, but because he would rather not.

The problem was, he had taken up a fancy for the girl a long time ago. It had started years ago, when he had first caught a glimpse of her, when they were both fifteen, and he was not yet part of the family business. It was a strange kind of fascination, since the two of them had never really talked, and Draco wasn't exactly the most affectionate of people, but he couldn't help being intrigued by her.

What a shame he would have to kill her, and if everything went according to plan, she would be dead by twilight.

And at the thought of spilling her blood, his stomach churned rather unexpectedly. He had never been nervous before, not while he was on a mission, so it confused him greatly. He suspected that the reason behind it was the victim herself, but he couldn't help but blame his client for giving him such mandates.

And it was particularly annoying because said client was a regular, and he often took advantage of his services. He never actually told Draco his name, he had always just told Draco to call him by his codename, Voldemort.

In a way, he was generous, because he had always given Draco bonus commission for each death - and Draco never figured out where all his money came from -, but at the same time, he seemed too shady, even for the assassin himself.

Once, he asked Draco to finish off an old man in a nearby town - his name was something like Dumbledore, if Draco remembered correctly -, and said it was a personal vendetta, and so, his eradication would be of utmost importance. Draco didn't know why would a man have a personal vendetta against an elderly clockmaker with a red parrot as a pet, but he was quite an easy target, so he accepted the proposal. And if there was anything he learned from the assassin lifestyle, it was that he himself was merely the weapon, not the one who wielded it, so he didn't ask questions. It wasn't his job to do so.

Then there was this bookstore owner and his wife. He ordered Draco to kill them, even though they had an infant son, and then the heir of a very wealthy family, who was supposed to be the betrothed of a girl from another very wealthy family. And on top of that, he always said it was a personal vendetta, and nothing else. For some reason, he sought revenge against the most random of people, and Draco couldn't quite wrap his head around the reason.

And at the same time, and for possibly the first time in his career, he felt like he didn't have the guts to silently crawl up to the girl and plunge his blade in her. He felt like her blood wouldn't look as glorious on the crimson knife. It didn't belong there.

But then again, what could he do? Defying a client's wishes was a grave mistake, according to his father, at least. Which meant he would have to deal with this Voldemort man himself. And it wasn't like he wouldn't do so, if it came down to it, but he would rather not. He was still a major source of money, though nothing more.

And so, with an almost inaudible sigh, he flipped the blade back, and glanced at the far end of the alley. The woman was now hugging with the man whom she had been speaking to. It seemed like they were saying their goodbyes now, and with a wave of his hand, the other man departed from the frizzy-haired woman. Then, she turned her back to the lively street and hurried through the alley, until she crossed the blond-haired man, who was now hiding in one of the cracks on the wall. He knew this place rather well, and it was almost as easy as a routine for him to camouflage himself so that he would blend in. The street wasn't lit well either, so his dark clothes helped in sheltering him as well.

And so, when the woman stepped in front of him, he stealthily crept up behind her, and in a flash of moment, he yanked her head back, flipping his knife out, which he held close to her neck, while his other hand held the woman steadily by her waist. He leaned forward, his face right next to hers, and quietly whispered in her ear.

"Hello, darling," he began. "I have a proposal for you. Say, what if we ran away from this place, you and me? It sounds abrupt, I know, but you have to understand that your only other choice is if I kill you, and I do not wish to do that. What do you say?"

"Why do you have to kill me?" The woman asked, her tone not faltering for a second.

"Have you ever heard of the Malfoys?" he answered, still whispering in the woman's ear. "We've always been known as proficient assassins, sending our target's to the otherworld with grace, leaving one of these cards behind," he released her waist, holding up a slip of carton, with a dragon inscribed on it. "And we never say no to our clients. You understand what I'm saying?"

He heard the woman gulp before answering. "Yeah," she said. "But then why aren't you doing it?"

"Ah, see, I'm only human," Draco replied. "And I'm willing to sacrifice quite a few things in order to save you. But you need to cooperate with me while doing so, because we would be dealing with a man I know next to nothing of. Or, alternatively, I can clean you off of existence, but as I said, I do not wish to do that. What do you say?"

"What would I have to do?" she asked. "If I agree to run away, that is."

"I don't know all of it yet," he explained. "But you'd need to stay away from the public for a while. We need people to think you're dead, even if you aren't," the woman seemed to be contemplating for a moment, before letting out a withheld breath.

"Okay," she said. "If there's no other choice."

* * *

 **A/N: So, how'd you like it? Was it good, was it bad, was it horrendous, and do you think I should just quit writing (don't actually say that, because I won't lol)? Leave a review with your thoughts, if you want.**

 **The OTP Prompt Challenge** : Round 1 – Assassin AU

 **Hogwarts/February Event** : (word) betrothed, (word) affection/affectionate

 **The If You Dare Challenge** : 827 (run)


	3. Why Don't We Just Run Away?

**A/N: Ah, well, today is a 'sitting in the bus stop' day. But it fits so well. Enjoy.**

 **Word count: 1031**

 **The OTP Prompt Collection** : Round 2 - Runaways AU

 **Tarot Card Challenge** : Fool secondary: Reckless or impulsive choices accompanied by folly and indiscretion. This is also the card of wasted energy.

 **The If You Dare Challenge** : 624 (wish)

* * *

There was a bench in the bus stop, and a girl was sitting on it, with the handle of a loaded trunk in her hand. It was already after sunset, and the street was only illuminated by the lamps on the streets, the faint glow of the moon and the stars on the sky.

The girl, who had uniquely frizzy hair, was wearing only a red hoodie, which was once brightly coloured, but now, since the years have taken their toll on it, it was only a dull shade of pastel. Besides that, she was wearing some casual jeans and a pair of once-white trainers. She looked rather dishevelled, and the tears streaks on her face indicated that she had had some kind of quarrel not long ago.

Minutes passed by as she waited for the bus to arrive, but instead of a bus, soon, a boy with light blonde, almost white hair and an equally messy attire plopped down next to her. In his hand, he held a stuffed sports bag.

"So, what brings you here on this particular night?" the boy asked, leaning against the backrest of the bench.

"I could ask the same," the girl stuttered. She tried to make herself sound unfaltering, but she failed terribly.

"Well, I left my family because we couldn't reach an agreement about a few things," the boy frowned. "You seemed like you have a similar problem, that's why I decided to talk to you."

"Well, I don't," she huffed. "And I don't see why should I tell you, even if I did."

"I'm not forcing you to tell me anything, so do as you wish," he threw his hands in the air. "I just thought it might be good for you if there was somebody you could talk to. But if you don't want that, then it's not my business."

And once again, minutes passed until either of them spoke again. The girl seemed reluctant to speak, because she didn't trust the boy. And the boy, well, he thought that she would break eventually, and he had all the time in the universe. He could wait for it.

It was a good five minutes later that she did.

"Actually, I got into a huge misunderstanding with my parents too," she started slowly. "They… They wanted to make decision about my future without my consent; they wanted me to become a dentist, just like them. But I didn't want that. I don't want to be a doctor just because that's how I was told."

"Well, my father told me that if I didn't carry the family business on, he would disown me," the boy replied. "I told him I didn't want to be a businessman. He told me that I wasn't welcome in the house, then. And I left."

"That's horrible," the girl furrowed her eyebrows. "Why would he do that?"

"Because he was brought up in the same fashion, but he never disobeyed," the boy shrugged. "I guess I had it coming."

"And what will you do now?" the girl inquired. "Do you have anywhere to go?"

"I could ask the same thing of you," the boy eyed her with an unreadable expression.

"I… I don't know," the girl exclaimed, looking a bit nervous. "I thought I could maybe go to my grandma's, but she would just call Mum and Dad…"

"So that one's out," the blonde surmised.

"Yeah, I guess," the brunette nodded. "And my aunt and uncle live at the other end of the country."

"Any friends?" he asked, though he quickly corrected himself when he saw the flinch that was etched on the girl's face. "Sorry, you don't have to tell me."

"No, it's not that…" she shook her head. "Whatever. But I don't really have a place to go, now that I think about it. Maybe I shouldn't have made such a rash decision; I'm sure my parents hate me now. I feel so stupid."

"I don't think they hate you," the boy said, locking his gaze on the girl. "I know my parents, even they don't hate me. Yes, they are strict and they have no idea what's good for me, but they don't hate me. I don't think it can be worse."

"Maybe," the girl mused. A few moments passed before she spoke again. "Do you have a place to go?"

"Not really," the boy replied. "I mean, I do have an uncle, who quite detests the way my parents have raised me, but he's not too keen of me either. He once called me a 'snobbish little prat'. Actually, I was thinking I could go to one of my mate's. He has a seven times widowed mother, though she's not in close connection with my family."

"That's nice," the girl nodded, nervously fidgeting with the handle of her trunk. "What's the time?"

"Still waiting for the bus that takes you God-knows-where?" the boy asked instead of glancing at his phone to tell the time. "Look, if you don't know where you want to go, just don't go anywhere."

"But then what should I do?" she glanced at the boy. "I can't just stay in this bus stop forever."

He waited in the silence for a brief period of time before sighing and answering. "You can come with me, if you want. I don't have much stuff with me, but I got a bucketload of money from my parents' bank account."

"Wouldn't that be an inconvenience?" she furrowed her eyebrows again. "I'm guessing your friend wouldn't expect a bonus person to be there."

"I don't think he would mind, if you know what I mean," the boy smirked, to which she scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Seriously though, it's okay. I couldn't care less and as far as I know him, he feels would be the same way."

"Thank you," the girl muttered.

"It's fine, I guess," the boy shrugged. "You coming?" he motioned at the bus that have just stopped in front of them.

"Wait, wait. I don't even know your name," the girl said.

"Draco. Draco Malfoy," he answered. "Now come," he said, grabbing the girl's arm and pulling her towards the bus.


	4. I Hate You (Not Really)

**A/N: So, I'm really excited about this. I simply love this AU, and I got loads of inspiration from the Hogwarts 'weird fics' and the QLFC 'Phan' discussions (and I can't say I didn't collect any ideas from the Dan and Phil history itself). Also, it kind of feels good to be back to my old writing style a bit, even though I pretty much hate myself for it xD**

 **And just a little bit of story time; I was actually planning the last scene in advance, and I just knew I wanted it in there, so, yeah. Everything leads up to that, and it was fix from the start, just so you know.**

 **Also, a bit of thanks to MissWitchx (Amy) for advising me to go watch Dan and Phil Truth or Dares, which I did but I did not use after all (because it was already hard to keep it in character as much as I could). Whatever, enjoy.**

 **Beta love: Huge thanks to Kefalion (Frida) for making sure this didn't turn out horrible :)**

 **Word count: 1612**

 **The OTP Prompt Collection** : Youtubers AU

 **2nd Annual Triwizard Tournament:** Must be at least 1500 words, without AN and such.

* * *

If anybody asked Hermione Granger why she had agreed to do this collaboration, she wouldn't know how to answer without spurting incomprehensible nonsense and making up strange explanations on the spot. The reason behind that was simply that she herself didn't exactly know, as it was a pretty rash decision she'd made without thinking through the consequences.

 _Well,_ she thought afterwards, _the worst that could happen is that the video will end up being a complete and utter failure and he won't upload it, so there's nothing to lose._

And she didn't back out either, because she was known for her bravery as well, and it would have been unlike her to not do her part after she had agreed to it. Otherwise, it was pretty much impossible to not agree, since the git literally asked her in front of hundreds of their fans at the latest VidCon, while he was recording it with a goddamn camera. Such a manipulative jerk he was.

And now, here she was, sitting in front of the mirror, preparing herself for the shoot, looking at the glass with a troubled expression. Her trouble didn't come from having to participate in a video, as she was pretty much used to doing that on her own channel – on which she had over a million subscribers, which meant she must have been doing something right -, but more to do with the fact that she didn't like to act, and she never showed anything other than what she truly was in front of the cameras. However, at the same time, she wasn't sure if she could nail this collaboration. And if there was something she hated even more than acting, it was failed video attempts. But she also knew that there was no way she could do anything about it now. So she let out a barely audible sigh, collected herself and her belongings and stepped out of the bathroom.

The room she stepped into was still much too familiar to her, and it didn't necessarily bring up good memories.

Truth is, she was a little bit nervous because she had been in his flat once, when they made another video together a few years ago. And it wasn't even the video itself, which caused her problems, including quite a few sleepless nights with morning headaches that she'd tried to cure with black coffee. It was what had come after.

It was just a few days after they had met that he'd decided to invite her for a collab video, to which she'd of course agreed, and the video itself had turned out to be a huge success between both of their fanbases. The fans had loved how the two of them were each other's complete opposites, and still, they worked out so perfectly – at least according to the commenters. And then there came the downsides of being a famous Youtuber.

The fanfictions… The fanfictions were the worst. She didn't read any of them, really, she only heard of them, but all of it was too hard for her to deal with.

At first, it was all okay, because he was there for her and they could forget about the hype around them for a few moments while they sat in various coffee shops, hidden from the prying eyes of the fans that stopped them at every corner for an autograph, trying to act like the normal young adults they never got to be. Those times, she was glad she got to be his friend.

And then, a few months later, they'd gotten into a huge misunderstanding, with him saying he was tired of how poorly Hermione dealt with the sudden fame, and with her retorting that he clearly didn't understand her problems, and maybe it would have been better if she didn't agree to the collaboration at all. And with that, she was over her phase that was about him, and all went back to how it was before, except for the fans. They were still savage when it came to the two of them. And it didn't help that nobody, aside from the two of them knew about this strange break-up.

So, it was a great surprise for her when he asked her to bury the hatchet and make another 'Truth or Dare' video with her, accompanied by an apology – which she never heard from him before, not just to her, but to anyone, really – and his hand, which was just waiting for her to shake it. No one in their right mind would have refused that, even without an audience. But with all those people watching her… She simply couldn't disappoint her fans. So, she'd agreed.

And now here she was, facing the man she had quite mixed feelings about for years now.

"Honestly, I thought you were never going to finish," the blond exclaimed with one of his trademark smirks. "What is it with you women and the bathroom anyway?"

She rolled her eyes and slapped his arm playfully. "Shut up, you. I… needed some time to think," Hermione admitted, casting her eyes down.

"Fine, I guess," he shrugged. "You sure it's not the camera awkwardness kicking in?"

"No, I'm not a newbie anymore," a small smile played on Hermione's lips. "But it's been long since we've last been able to speak with each other, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, and I hate to break your sentimental mood, but I've got everything set up, so we should be able to start now, if you want," he explained. "Come on."

"You never forget to amaze me with how much of a git you can be," Hermione shook her head as the two of them plopped down onto the blond's bed. In front of them was a camera on a stand, with some lights next to it. It wasn't exactly a professional setup, but Hermione used the same techniques and she found that she was content with the quality. She didn't need much to get by, and it was completely unnecessary to splash out on exorbitant equipment which she didn't need. "But at least you still got that classic setup."

"Would you believe me if I said I scraped it together from my storage room only for you?" he asked, setting a bowl of what seemed to be pieces of papers on his lap.

"Tough question, because you're much too lazy for that," Hermione grinned. "But I have a feeling that the moment you had enough money, you spent it on a professional camera or something. You've always been a snob."

"You still know me too well," he rolled his eyes. "How about we start?"

"Finally," Hermione nodded. "I know you hate doing intros, want me to do it instead?"

"Do as you please," he shrugged as he leaned over to the camera and pushed the 'Record' button with one swift movement. Hermione sighed as she gazed at the camera tiredly.

"We both really hate doing intros," she exclaimed, waited a few moments, and turned to face the blond. "I think that's enough."

"You're after my own heart, 'Mione," he replied, although he said it more to the camera than to her. It was a wonder how quickly he could change his attitude while on show.

"Most of you will be wondering why or how I'm here though," Hermione continued.

"No, they won't; they saw the scene from VidCon," he smirked at her.

"But for those who didn't," Hermione ignored the boy's expression. "Your dear Draco here asked me for another collaboration after two long years of silence, and he didn't give me much of a chance to refuse, if I remember correctly."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Draco said, completely unrepentant.

"Come on, you're not sorry at all," Hermione rolled her eyes. "But we can talk about that later. Now, I believe we have a mission to accomplish here."

"You're being awfully sophisticated, but you're right," Draco sighed dramatically, pulling out a slip of paper from the bowl and folding it out so that he could read it. "So, we start with a dare."

"Care to read it out?" Hermione turned to him, but instead of an answer, the next thing she knew was his lips on hers and his fingers laced in her bushy hair.

She was shocked, to say the least. Out of all things, she had not expected him to do that, but at the same time, somehow, it felt just right, like it was how this was supposed to play out, like they both belonged in that moment, together. Maybe it was because of the fact that even though he hurt her two years ago, she still somewhat missed him. Maybe it was because she had wanted to do this for a long time too, even though she'd suppressed the feeling unconsciously. She didn't know, but it didn't matter either, because every thought she might have had then fled her conscience as she kissed him back fiercely.

They stayed like that for seconds, maybe minutes – she didn't know, her sense of time was dulled down by everything else she felt -, holding each other tightly before they separated with ragged breath. Hermione supposed her eyes were still wide with shock, and hence came the comment from her companion.

"I wanted to do that for a pretty long time, actually," he noted with a sly smirk, holding up a piece of paper, which had the words _'Kiss her'_ written on it.

"Just make sure you cut it from the final video, I'm not planning on arguing with you about the reception this time," Hermione replied, pecking the blond on the lips once again.


	5. What Two Eyes Can't See

**A/N: This one's for all you clichés, all you generic fanfics and more clichés. Listen up! (freely after MCR's 'Na Na Na')**

 **So. Crappy, cliché'd and absolutely not original fanfic time with no plot-twists whatsoever! Yay!**

 **This one's written for Delusional Fujoshi (Jas) for the Monthly One-Shot Exchange, and even though personally I think it's awful, I hope you like it.**

 **Enjoy.**

 **Word count: 1287**

 **The OTP Prompt Competition** \- Round 4 – (genre) Angst

 **Monthly One-Shot Exchange** – for Delusional Fujoshi (Jas) – prompts used: (pairing) Draco/Hermione, (genre) Angst, (word) scandal

 **Ultimate Chocolate Frog Card Club** – (Bonus) Maximilian Crowdy – Write about a non-canon pureblood/muggleborn pairing.

 **Candy from the Trolley** – Milk Chocolate Frogs/prompts – comb, prevent, stormy

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** – Care of Magical Creatures Assignment #8 – Write about someone who has foreseen death.

* * *

 _He hears as she screams for whatever higher being may listen to her pleas. He also hears as she begs for mercy, the words escaping her lips in a very un-Gryffindor-ish way. And last but not least, he hears as the other person in the hall lets out a muffled giggle before pointing their wand at her._

 _What he doesn't hear is when they finally cast the spell that ends her miserable life, accompanied by a maniacal laughter. He just can't bear to watch her die anymore – even though he has seen it so many times. It has always been the same, she being tortured until she was on the verge of insanity, and then that mysterious voice finishing her off with the Killing Curse._

 _He doesn't want to witness it anymore, so he turns away and runs; runs through the shadows that dim the light of this unknown place he's in, runs far from the noises, runs so that he doesn't have to see her death over and over again without having the chance to prevent it from happening._

~oOo~

Draco gasped as his eye fluttered open in the next moment. He hastily threw the covers off of his body and stayed put until his breathing slowed down a little.

The more he thought about it, the more worrying these dreams had become. And what's even worse, he had no idea why he was having this dream every other night. But the most worrying was that he knew who the girl, who was otherwise shrouded in mystery, was. He couldn't quite comprehend why, but in the bottom of his conscience, he was aware that it was the bushy-haired Mudblood, although he wasn't sure why.

He didn't know who the predator was, he only knew that for some reason, he was supposed to save the girl instead of running away, or watching in silence, but he could never bring himself to intervene in these dreams.

Although, the fact that he would have had to save her specifically was confusing in itself as well. He had always thought of her as filth and nothing more, and he had always been convinced that the likes of her should be eradicated from the face of Earth; what had changed then?

And then there was the Wizarding War going on, and he was a well-known supporter of the Dark Side. If word got out that Draco Malfoy was having weird and strangely realistic nightmares about Hermione Granger, it would certainly cause a scandal, and that was the last thing he needed right now.

Inconvenience; that's what he called it. All these visions have been lingering in the back of his head since his sixth year at Hogwarts – when he was supposed to fix the Vanishing Cabinet – and it still confused him greatly.

He supposed it wouldn't change much either way; it's not like he was falling in love with the Gryffindor girl or something – no, that would certainly be way too far-fetched, but he supposed it made him want to redeem some of his actions, at least.

But then again, it wasn't like he was a Seer of any kind. Sure, he had gotten satisfactory grades in Divination, but that wasn't because he had any kind of spectacular talent in the subject, it was merely because he sacrificed just enough time to the topic. And if he remembered correctly, Trelawney too had once told him that he lacked the Inner Eye – whatever that was.

In the exact same moment he was going to cut this thread of thought off, his door opened and his father entered the room with a stormy expression etched onto his face.

"Father?" he asked as he opened his wardrobe to find a suitable robe.

"Draco, the Snatchers have caught whom we surmised to be Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, and Ms Granger, but unfortunately, we cannot be sure. We need your help to make sure we will not call the Dark Lord without proper evidence."

"As you wish, father," Draco nodded and picked out a robe from his clothing cabinet and after shrugging into it, he ran a hand through his hair so as to comb it. His clothing was all black, not unlike his everyday attire in the past few months. He had grown to like black robes; they reflected his general mood rather well.

~oOo~

"Why would you want to save me from your crazy aunt?" Hermione spat as he led her down one of the shady hallways of the Manor. "Last time I checked, you hated my guts."

"I still do," he answered curtly. "But I have to tell you something as soon as I can."

"And what would that be?" she crossed her arms across her chest after he had led her into one of the abandoned rooms in the basement.

"You may find this unbelievable," he started, "but I have been having a weird gut feeling which tells me you may die here if nobody warns you. I should not trust my gut feelings as a Slytherin, I know, but it comes off way too real to be just a coincidence."

"You mean to tell me I'm supposed to believe any words you say?" Hermione argued. "You could have dragged me off to kill me just as well."

"If I wanted to, I would already have done it," Draco noted. "Look, hadn't I claimed I wanted to deal with you myself, my aunt would have done something way worse than death to you for information. Or maybe she would have just outright killed you after she had driven you near insanity. She had done that to other people already."

"I know that well, thank you very much," Hermione replied, venom still clear in her voice. "But then again, I'm aware that my life is in danger; that won't change until the war is over. I don't see why this is a crucial piece of information."

"If you really want to know, it's because Potter and Weasley won't survive on their own. And the hell wants to serve the Dark Lord."

"Surely, that wouldn't be a problem for you," Hermione grumbled. "With your pureblood mania."

"I would have gladly taken the invite to the Grey Side had I been given one," Draco exclaimed. "But that's beside the point. Let's make a pact. You pretend you're being awfully tortured, and I'll make sure you escape this damned place as soon as you can. Deal?"

"Once again, I don't see why I should comply," Hermione shook her head.

"Because these goddamn visions are going to be the end of me!" Draco cried. "Do you know how many sleepless nights have I had because somebody decided it would be a good idea to plant some horrifying dreams in my head? I suspect you don't. And these dreams somehow managed to convince me that if I didn't try to prevent your death from happening, I would probably die from guilt. How does that sound?"

"Let me get this straight," Hermione said. "You were… are having visions about my death? And it's making you feel guilty?"

"Yes, and don't make me say it again," Draco spat.

"Oh, that's hilarious," Hermione grinned. "And just so you know, you completely deserve it."

"Yes, yes, I do, whatever," Draco dabbed. "Let's just get to the point. Deal or no?"

"On one condition," Hermione exclaimed after a brief period of thoughtful silence. "If it comes down to a battle, you will not fight against the Light Side, even if You-Know-Who calls you out on it."

"...Fine," Draco nodded. "I suspect I will be killed for it, but fine. Now, go and pretend you're undergoing some kind of extensive pain therapy, will you?"


	6. Coward's Way Out

**A/N: When was the last time I wrote angsty Dramione? Long ago. But I can still see why I love it so much. Enjoy.**

 **Word count: 643**

 **Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry** : Music History Assignment #1 – Dynamics task – Write a story with no dialogue tags (or, in this case, no dialogue).

* * *

 _Dear Hermione,_

 _You may be wondering why I'm writing this letter to you, rather than talking to you myself. To be honest, I have wondered about it myself as well, and then came to the conclusion that it's always been the way for me. I'm not a Gryffindor, unlike you, so direct confrontation is often not the solution for me._

 _You also may be wondering, why am I apologising for writing a letter instead of flooing you or inviting you for an afternoon coffee. Well, the best way to put it is because I'm choosing the coward's way out. The coward that I've always been; the coward that I'll always be._

 _Hopefully, at the time of you receiving this letter, I'll already have left. Where, you would ask. Far away, would my answer be. And yes, I did have a choice. I could have refused as easily as I had accepted, but trust me, if you still can, because I have my reasons, other than searching for a new start._

 _I have noticed that a few things have… shifted between us in the past few… weeks? Months? I can't remember exactly. I only know that one day, I woke up, prepared myself for a date with you, but something felt missing. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on, something incomprehensible—at the time, that is. It was only later that I realised that it was the excitement, the anxiety that was missing. I'm not sure what could have caused it to disappear so suddenly. Maybe it happened because we fell into an oh-so-casual routine, both with meetings and with the activities we did together. Maybe it was me coming to my senses. Or maybe, it was something else. After all, a lot has changed since the Hogwarts days, where everything would change from day to day, almost like the weather._

 _I'm not the best with figuring feelings out. If you can recall, one of the reasons why we somehow connected at first was that we are both reasonable and rational. Not emotionless, of course, but still, believing in our minds more than in our hearts._

 _Picking up the story, as I mentioned, I had this moment where something… cracked, and then, it was all going downhill from there. Not that I didn't try to rethink it myself, and not that I wasn't trying to convince myself otherwise, but you know how stubborn I can be. I've always been stubborn, and even I still am, even though more unconsciously than before._

 _I have no idea if you noticed it. If you did—and I believe you did, because you are a bright witch—then I suppose you already know what comes next. You're possibly the only person that can read me like a book—other than my parents, that is. But if you didn't notice, then I'm sorry again. I know, you're not used to me apologising, but if anyone, you deserve it._

 _A few weeks ago, I received an offer from an international company; they offered me to work for them. It wasn't the best job offer I could imagine, but it was reasonable enough to accept, especially with my current job. It was then that it hit me. I had to accept, because otherwise, I'd be stuck in a relationship I no longer enjoyed for Merlin knows how long, because I'd be too much of a coward, I'd be way too proud to end it face to face. So, I accepted. And now, I'm moving out of the country._

 _It's all for the better, some would say. Interestingly enough, I believe that it's better if I end it here. I'm not asking you to answer me; that'd be foolish. I'm asking yo to understand, and to forgive me. If anything, all these years were worth the memories._

 _Thank you._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Draco_


End file.
